That only makes my smirk grow as I step away, shaking my head. Whatever this is about, at least I’m not the one in trouble this time.
Ibarely notice Ash walking away, too focused on the man standing in front of me. Knox watches me with that unreadable expression of his, with his arms crossed over his chest like he was expecting this conversation.
Good. Because I damn well want answers.
“Why am I in the lineup?” I ask, cutting straight to it.
Knox exhales, tilting his head slightly. “You really have to ask?”
“Yes.” My arms cross, matching his stance. “I’m not technically part of the team. You are. So why put me in? And why right behind Ash?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “Because you can handle it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one that matters.”
I clench my jaw, frustration simmering beneath my skin. “Knox?—”
“You’ve been flying with us for months, Amelia. Training with us, pushing harder than half the pilots here. The only difference between you and everyone else is the paperwork.” He pauses, eyes narrowing. “So tell me—what’s this really about?”
I open my mouth, ready to argue, but the words stick. Because, deep down, I know I can handle it. That isn’t the issue.
The issue is what it means.
Being in that lineup means trust. It means commitment. It means stepping into something bigger than just flying for myself.
And worst of all? It means flying with Ash, matching him move for move, with no room for doubt.
Knox sees it the second it crosses my face. His expression softens just slightly. “If you don’t want it, say the word. I’ll pull you.”
I swallow hard, my pulse loud in my ears.
I should say yes. I should walk away.
But I whisper, “I didn’t say that.”
Knox gives a knowing nod. “Then suit up, Phoenix. You’ve got work to do.”
And just like that, it’s decided.
Knox says nothing right away. He just looks at me, like he is seeing right through every wall I’ve spent years building. And damn it, I hate when he does that.
“You needed a push,” he finally says, his voice calm.
I exhale sharply. “A push into what, exactly?”
“The sky.” His eyes hold mine. “And maybe something more.”
I clench my jaw. “I’m not afraid to fly, Knox.”
“I know.” His lips twitch like he is holding back a smile. “But you are afraid of trusting someone to fly with you.”
The words hit their mark, settling heavy in my chest.
I can handle anything in the air—g-force, high speeds, tight formations. But trusting someone to be there, to not leave me hanging in freefall? That is different.
That is personal.
